


What Will Never Be

by Morgana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon Stiles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets reminded why falling in love is a bad idea</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Will Never Be

Demons play head games. This isn't news to anybody on the planet, not really. Hunters, vampires, werewolves, wendigos, kitsunes... they all know about demons. They all know what they do; they've known it ever since the first demon managed to crawl out of the Pit and worm its way into a human body so it could fuck with the minds of the other humans around it. As the years passed and their numbers multiplied, they grew better at it, but that wasn't what made them so hated. No, it was the sheer glee they took in the havoc they wrought and the pain they caused that brought that about. Vampires killed to live, werewolves to defend their territory, but only the sickest among them took the pleasure in it that demons did. Even then, demons were worse, for the blackest among _them_ would put off the death, delaying it while they toyed with their prey, tormenting mind and soul for months, often years, savoring their victim's mental and emotional pain before they finally turned their attention to torturing their body.  
  
Derek's not an idiot. He knows all these things, just like he knows that something isn't right around town. There have been one too many accidents that didn't seem quite accidental enough for that. Of course he's suspected things, wondered if some of the deaths around town that he knew weren't caused by his pack had other supernatural causes. He'd thought it was vampires at first, but the only death he ever smelled was fresh, not the old death that always lingered around vampires. One by one, he's eliminated other options, even as the killing and strange disappearances continued, until only one possibility remains: there's a demon in Beacon Hills. A demon laying claim to  _his_  territory, killing humans that he has promised to keep safe.  
  
It has to be stopped. There's no question about that, but Derek has never gone up against a demon before. He gathers books, reads everything he can find, determined to keep his pack safe - all of his pack, from his second in command right down to the humans that are part of it through their connections to the pack members. Not to mention his - well, Derek isn't really the hearts and flowers type, and he certainly hasn't done anything to make it official, but there's really only one word for it, even if he hasn't said that word yet.   
  
"Derek? Whatcha doing?"  
  
The sound of his mate's voice cuts into his thoughts and Derek smiles as he closes the book he's been studying for the past hour. He figures he's due for a break anyway. Turning to the laptop, he finds Stiles watching him as he replies, "Just doing some research."  
  
Stiles' crooked grin reminds him why he has to put the demon down as soon as he can. "Oh yeah? Any chance that research involves the Kama Sutra?"  
  
He chuckles and shakes his head. "I'll look into that once I have this all sorted out."  
  
"Promises, promises," Stiles teases. "So what's the big research thing, then?"  
  
He should tell him that it's pack business, or better yet, tell him nothing, but instead he says, "There's a demon in town and I'm working on how to get rid of it."  
  
"Huh." For a minute, Stiles is silent, and then he starts laughing, a wild, dark sound that sends a shiver down Derek's spine and rouses every single instinct he has. "You really think you'll be able to get rid of it?" He offers the Alpha a mocking smile as he adds, "Of me?"  
  
_Shit_. That thing was - it had Stiles?!? Derek clutches the desk to keep from throwing the laptop across the room. "Get out of him," he snarls.  
  
"Oh, I'm pretty sure you don't want me to do that," the demon purrs. He leans in closer to the webcam, his eyes bleeding to a deep liquid black. The demon's next words are a whisper, but they echo in Derek's ears like a scream. "Your precious Stiles is gone. I stuck a knife in this loser's stomach months ago."  
  
It takes a second for the words to sink in.  _Stiles is gone. Stuck a knife in his stomach_. So even if he can get the demon out of him, he still loses. Or rather, he already lost - months ago. He swallows hard, forcing down the bile as he wonders just how many months ago the demon had killed Stiles. How long has he been holding and kissing a dead boy? How many times has that - that  _thing_  said it loved him, the words nothing but poisonous lies that he's soaked up like a sponge?   
  
He thinks about that first kiss, when he'd had Stiles pressed up against a wall, panting and frightened, and he'd slammed his mouth down on his without thinking about it. He thinks about how Stiles had wrapped his arms around his neck, kissed him back for all of three seconds before he pushed him away and ran off, about the way he'd babbled at him when he saw him again until Derek had kissed him again and asked him out. They'd had their first date a week later, spaghetti and breadsticks followed by two movies at the Hale house, where Stiles had fallen asleep and drooled on his shoulder. That was when he'd realized that he was in deeper than he wanted to be, because he hadn't wanted to wake him up and take him home. But he had, and somehow they'd kept dating, things slowly heating up until last night, when -  
  
But that hadn't been Stiles. Not really. The best night of his life had been with a demon. The sweet, tender virgin he'd taken to his bed had been a creature of Hell. The funny, awkward boy he'd fallen in love with was gone. Or maybe he'd never been there to begin with. Maybe the demon had claimed him long before Derek ever entered his life. And it's that thought, the possibility that he's never actually known the real Stiles, that threatens to break him.  
  
He wants to scream. He wants to trash the living room, break everything he can get his hands on starting with the laptop and ending with the demon that's torn his life and heart apart, but all he can do for the moment is stare at the screen and try not to give in to either the rage or the tears. There will be time for both later. Right now...  
  
Right now, he has a demon to destroy. He reaches out to slam the laptop lid down, then picks the book up. He has work to do.


End file.
